


Something of me Here

by CaptainDog



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Prompt Fill, School Reunion, Trans Luke Skywalker, Trans Male Character, married han/luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:38:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDog/pseuds/CaptainDog
Summary: Luke is pretty worried about his high school reunion. Han can't figure out why, because his husband is way better than all those dune hicks.





	Something of me Here

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by my awesome bud @halfsyproblems. This totally got away from me and I'm not sure I arrived at the point I wanted to but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I got a bunch of other stuff to work on so I decided to not fiddle with it any further. Not beta'd. TW for brief misgendering. Luke's gender is not a big thing in this, he's just always trans unless stated otherwise when I write him.

Han sighed deeply from the edge of the bed, where he was seated. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. Luke glared at his reflection in the mirror, where he was fixing his own hair.

 

“You look nice already. Can we get a move on?”

 

“Are you really wearing that?” Luke turned and gestured at Han's general person. Han didn't bother to look offended.

 

“Yep. You're not getting me into anything more formal than this, even if you use the Force on me. Besides, I'm wearing my stripes. Not that anyone there will know what they mean.”

 

“On the contrary. We grew up hearing stories about Corellian warriors. A lot of people are going to want to hear how you got them.”

 

Han scowled. “They're going to be disappointed.”

 

He pushed himself up from the bed and crossed the room. He sidled up behind Luke, looking at the both of them in the mirror from over Luke's shoulder. He slid his hands around Luke's waist. Luke's face twisted into a pout.

 

“ _Han_ ,” he said, in that slightly whiny tone he'd never really grown out of. “You're going to ruin the press on my tunic.” 

 

“It'll be fine. If I wrinkle it, you can just smooth it out with your mystical powers.” Han ducked his head to kiss Luke's neck above his stiff collar. 

 

“That's not how the Force works.” Luke rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He indulged for a few moments more, leaning back into Han's solid warmth. It was when he felt Han's teeth that he pulled away. 

 

“We really should get going,” he said, cheeks pink and voice a little breathy. 

 

“That's what I've been saying for half an hour,” Han grumbled. He went to put on his jacket. “Let's get this over with.”

 

+

 

Luke stuck close to Han's side as they headed into the newly renovated auditorium. It had once been an Imperial outpost, mainly used for stationing stormtroopers and recruiting the kids as they got close to graduation. Luke had spent his share of time here, in what felt like another lifetime, chasing the dream of going to the Academy. Now the place was unrecognizable. His own work to clean up Tatooine after the fall of the Empire and the Hutts had helped fund the rebuild, which was now a part of the Anchorhead Public School. 

 

“What are you so nervous about?” Han asked. Luke was stoic these days, but Han could still read him almost as well as Leia could. 

 

“It's just...” Luke sighed. “It's been a long time. A lot's happened. But these people...they weren't like the friends I have now. I was the weird kid that dreamed of the stars.”

 

Han, arm around Luke's shoulders, squeezed him closer. “Hey, it'll be fine. You've grown up, and so have they. Besides, you've been to the stars.” 

 

Luke shrugged. He didn't argue, but Han could tell that he wasn't convinced. It was kind of infuriating. Luke was a Jedi, a hero of the Rebellion, a champion of the galaxy. It didn't make sense for him to care what these dust pile hicks thought of him, then or now. 

 

There was already a pretty sizable crowd, milling about and nursing drinks, when they made it inside. Music was playing, the same kind of cantina band crap that had been popular back when Luke and Han had met. Decorations and banners with Luke's graduation year were hanging throughout the room, as well as a table displaying holos of those who'd never make it back home. Han didn't miss Luke's eyes carefully avoiding that. They made it all the way to the table where check-in was without any eyes catching them. But the moment they approached, it seemed that the whispers began. 

 

The man, bent and old, skin cracked from years under the twin suns, barely glanced up from his holopad when Luke approached. 

 

“Name?” 

 

Luke startled, and Han realized it was because the man hadn't recognized him. He must have been a teacher of Luke's. 

 

“Luke Skywalker. And a plus-one.” 

 

The old man was still for a moment, and then he looked up. He squinted milky eyes at them. “The Lars' boy? Didn't think we'd be seeing you again.” 

 

“It's nice to see you too, Mr. Straff.” 

 

The man tapped his holopad, and then pushed a name tag at Luke. His name was written in Aurebesh, “Skywalker” spelled incorrectly. He managed to keep a straight face as he pinned it to the front of his tunic. Han did not. Luke elbowed him in the ribs as he snickered. 

 

“So, who was that?” Han whispered as Luke steered him away from the table. It didn't escape his notice that they were headed to the punch bowl. 

 

“Mr. Straff. He taught Imperial history. We didn't get along.”

 

“Oh yeah? Daydream in his class too much?”

 

This time Luke couldn't hold back his snort. “Have you met me? I got into arguments with him nearly every day. I spent more time in detention than in class, probably.” 

 

Han chuckled. Of course. 

 

The punch was, mercifully, spiked. Not with anything particularly good; Tatooine hadn't turned around  _that_ much. Still, it would make a nice social lubricant. It was when they had both served themselves and were sipping their terrible punch when someone finally came up to them. 

 

“Luke Skywalker?” The man was balding prematurely, with a perpetual sunburn right on top of his scalp. Luke recognized him instantly. 

 

“Fixer!” 

 

The man chuckled sheepishly. “Fixer. Wow. Haven't heard that name in a long time.” 

 

“People don't call you that any more?”

 

“Nah. Just Mr. Loneozner now. Or 'hey, shopkeep!'” 

 

Luke managed a sincere sounding laugh. 

 

“But look at you! Not much taller, but boy have you cleaned up. Last I saw you, you were wearing farm kid rags and trailing after Biggs Darklighter. They say you're a Jedi now.” 

 

Han caught Luke stiffening at the name, but that was the only indication that Fixer's comment had bothered him. 

 

“That's right,” Luke said softly. He seemed taken aback by how wide-eyed Fixer is. Han could kind of see why. They were both used to Luke as he is now. He dressed in black, fitted trousers and tunics, wore his lightsaber at his hip, stood with his back straight and eyes sharp. But Han could remember the kid he'd been. A scrap of a thing in a tunic streaked with grease and coated in Tatooine's ambient dust, floppy hair, and a mouth bigger than a meteor. 

 

“Wow...” Fixer said, looking duly impressed. Han couldn't help puffing his chest out a little and sliding his arm around Luke's waist. Luke blinked.   
  
“Oh! Fixer, er, Laze. This is my husband, Han Solo.” 

 

Fixer's eyes, wide as saucers already, widened further. He didn't look altogether happy to meet Han. While Han was lauded as a hero in some systems, on Tatooine he was mainly still regarded as a smuggler. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr...uh. Captain?” 

 

“Just Han is fine,” Han said, extending his free hand to shake. Fixer's palm was sweaty, and Han took pleasure in squeezing just a little too tightly. He wiped his hand surreptitiously on his pants when he released Fixer's. They were all silent for a beat too long. Luke cleared his throat. 

 

“So. Who else is here? Camie? Deak?”

 

Fixer shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, yeah. The gang's all here. Except for Biggs, of course.” He gave a weak little laugh. 

 

“Are you and Camie still together?”

 

Fixer's face fell. “No, we...I think we rushed into things. The war started to get serious, so we got hitched. But it didn't work out. We haven't really been speaking for a few years.” 

 

“I'm sorry to hear that.” 

 

Damn Luke for being so earnest. Han believed he really was sorry to hear it. 

 

Fixer shrugged. “It's all right. For the best, you know.” 

 

The conversation was clearly reaching its awkward peak. Best to back out now before it got painful. “It was nice meeting you. But I see a holo display over there, and I want to see if there are any good pictures of my husband.” 

 

Fixer looked relieved to let them go. 

 

They only made it a few steps when someone else called out to Luke. 

 

“Is that you, Wormie?” 

 

Luke's face twisted into a grimace for only a moment, and then he replaced it with a pleasant smile. 

 

“No one's called me that in ages, Camie.” 

 

The woman got closer, and she seemed to reevaluate Luke. Her harsh expression softened to something tinged with surprise. “No, I guess they wouldn't. You've really grown up, haven't you? I've heard all about your adventures.” 

 

Luke did not relax, even when Han started to rub soothing circles on his lower back. 

 

“I'm surprised you even graced us with your presence. Bigshot hero of the war and all.” Camie laughed, bitterness cutting through the sound. “Why did you come? Did you want to rub your success in all of our faces?”

 

“What? No, that's not...”

 

“It's working, you know. Since you stepped in here in your designer boots, everyone's been whispering and wondering if they're even allowed to speak to you.” 

 

“Camie...” 

 

“You don't have me fooled. I know you're the same little girl who played with starship models far longer than she should have.” 

 

To Han's surprise, Luke relaxed a little. He started to laugh. 

 

Camie looked stunned, teetering on the edge of outrage. 

 

“You haven't changed a bit, Camie. I can't believe I was nervous about coming here.” 

 

“Luke Skywalker, what are you-”

 

Luke was still chuckling. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...it's just that you've always lashed out at things you didn't understand. Calling me Wormie, misgendering me, teasing me when we were kids. It was because you were insecure. Back then, I didn't understand, so it hurt. But I can feel your emotions. I get it now. You can't hurt me any more.” 

 

Camie sputtered, caught between rage and confusion. 

 

“A part of me will always be that farm boy that played with starship models. But if that's all you see, just a kid trying to impress the only friends he has available, you're not looking hard enough.” 

 

Luke turned to Han. “Let's get out of here. I want to visit the old homestead before we leave the planet.” 

 

Han nodded and followed him out. They were silent, and only paused so Luke could pull his name tag off and drop it in a trash receptacle. 

 

“What was that about?” Han finally asked when they reached their rented speeder. 

 

Luke slid into the driver's seat before answering. “You were right. About whether I should care what they think. It wasn't until I got there that I realized how different I am now.” He sighed. “A part of me will always be tied to this place, but that doesn't mean I need to let it drag me back into unpleasant memories. Camie isn't a bad person, not really. But we're nothing alike any more, and I have real friends now.”

 

“Damn right.”

 

Han put his arm around Luke's shoulders. Luke smiled up at him. 

 

“You know...it's probably not befitting a Jedi. But I did enjoy showing off a little. Dressing up nice, and having you at my side.” 

 

“I make a pretty good trophy husband, huh?”

 

“What? I thought I was the trophy husband.” 

 

“Not a chance. I'm the pretty one.” 

 

Luke laughed and leaned up to kiss him before he started the speeder up and steered it away from Anchorhead and into barren farm country. 

 


End file.
